


Coping Mechanisms

by haylches



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A new spin on torture methods, Aftermath of Torture, Gen, Psychological Torture, Torture, is not pretty, lance can’t shut up, probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-10 14:10:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15950978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haylches/pseuds/haylches
Summary: He wasn’t crazy. He really wasn’t, promise. He normally wasn’t this dependent on his so-called ‘coping mechanism’. He could handle silence pretty well. Like, for hours. He actually wanted to stop talking, but he couldn’t. Every time he tried he almost freaking died.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, and welcome to my quick little drabble into Lance’s tortured mind. This inspiration struck me like right before I went off to bed, so I’m glad to have it all busted out. I’m considering adding a recovery chapter? Not sure, you’ll have to tell me what you think. Thanks for reading!!

Lance never would have thought he’d get tired of talking.

Talking was always something he’d been exceptionally adept at. Just ask any one of his friends! He could talk for longer and about less than most politicians. He considered it to be one of his defining attributes, actually. Some found it annoying (Keith), but he pushed past that small percentage of the population in favor of the friends he made because of it.

Even after getting blasted up to space with a motley crew of misfits, he used his talents to cope with their situation. Everyone needed a little distraction here and there, and Lance was happy to provide. Talking took everyone’s mind off of whatever cruel situation they were stuck in, regardless of how interested (or disinterested, really) either party actually was in the topic. So yeah, he was a bit of a blabbermouth. Always had been. He’d just never expected it to be a problem before.

The Galra general gave him a sharp slap, cutting his words off abruptly.

“I don’t care about your coping mechanisms, Earthling. Tell me about Voltron. What strategies have you developed?”

The budding pain in his chest finally eased a little as he opened his mouth gratefully. “Ah, well, we do a lot of things to, y’know, bond and stuff. Every team needs to be totally in synch. One of my favorite strategies, for example, is what I like to call the “Double Hunk Procedure.”

The Galran general leaned forward subtly, and Lance grinned.

“To do the DHP, you gotta be really, really careful. It requires great skills of stealth. First, you make sure Hunk isn’t looking in your direction. Then, you simply step up behind him and try not to let him see you. I’ve gone hours shadowing him without him even realizing. It’s hilarious.”

The Galran seemed confused, tilting his head a little.

“What is this ‘Hunk’? A code word?”

“Nope!” Lance butted in, glad to be moving his mouth again. “Hunk’s a person! My BFF, Bro For Forever. You probably wouldn’t like him, he’s a little too happy for your—“

The Galran slapped him hard, and the pain in his chest returned as vehemently as the pain in his face.

“I see you still haven’t learned your lesson. No matter. It’s only a matter of time before you break.” And with that, Mr. Sunshine was out of the room.

Which would be great, except that now he just felt crazy when he started up his hopeless spew again.

He wasn’t crazy. He really wasn’t, promise. He normally wasn’t this dependent on his so-called ‘coping mechanism’. He could handle silence pretty well. Like, for hours. He actually _wanted_ to stop talking, but he couldn’t. Every time he tried he almost freaking died. 

He wasn’t exactly sure how the Galra did it. He suspected it was the food, but it felt a little basic somehow. Like, the possibility of it being the food was so obvious that he had to be wrong.

There could have been some kind of crazy voodoo Druid stuff that went on during his brief visit to the realms of unconsciousness, but he tried to avoid thinking about that possibility much. If they’d managed to permanently alter him when they captured him, then that would really suck. He wouldn’t be able to function as a paladin in this state; possibly not even as a human being.

Talking literally non-stop was kind of the worst thing ever, really. He couldn’t sleep, because every time he managed to drift towards it his mouth shut off and the pain started up again. He had a hard time carrying on conversations, too, because waiting for the other person to finish their sentence was basically agonizing. Eating was a necessary evil, but he just sent a silent plea of apology to his mamá and talked around the food. Drinking was harder, but the short bursts of silent pain were bound to happen regardless of how much he avoided it.

What worried him more than anything else, however, was the dry scratchiness he felt creeping closer and closer by the hour. His throat and vocal chords could only keep up with him for so long, and what happened then? He’d have no defense against the pain. He’d tried whispering to see if that helped, which it unfortunately did not. So the pain was almost inevitable at this point.

With that in mind, he had some choices. He could continue as he was until his vocal chords burst and his throat bled, or he could try to endure as many short bursts of silent pain as he could and give his throat some relief. This option was certainly not as pretty, but it was smarter. If he could make his voice last longer, he wouldn’t have to deal with the pain all at once with no relief. He could take it a little at a time. So maybe he’d try it. Just to see. Yeah.

 

FUCK.

Shit, ok, that hurt a heck ton and maybe he shouldn’t do that. Maybe the best plan was just to wait for the team? He could hold out until they got him. Surely they were searching for him as he spoke, and his voice would last, it would be fine, talking was his thing. He was good at talking. Peachy. Everything was fine.

He had to admit the Galra has been pretty smart about this whole thing. Even if he hated it with every fiber of his being, it made sense. Make your prisoner talk. At first it might not be worth much, but leave them for a while and exhaustion sets in. Then their filter fades, and you’ve got yourself a veritable fountain of information. Lance was definitely feeling the exhaustion bit, but he suspected he could last a while longer. He had just enough filter to avoid talking about sensitive subjects. Things like Allura’s training regiments and Shiro’s battle strategies. He’d just been learning a new one, actually, that put Blue more in the spotlight of the—

SHIT, crap, holy mother of tacos he wasn’t supposed to say that. Ok. Maybe he was a little further gone than he thought. He really, really needed to avoid talking about Voltron stuff. It was kind of hard when you ended up spewing every thought that entered your head, though. And it’s hard to avoid thinking about something because then you just end up thinking about not thinking about it and you’re suddenly thinking about it without even realizing—

His cheek stung, and the Galran General glared at him. Huh. Hadn’t noticed he came in.

“That’s most likely due to your incessant chatter.”

Lance raised a brow. “My incessant chatter? You know you asked for this, right? You’re literally forcing me to talk. Like, I never would have considered this form of torture before, but I gotta admit it’s working.”

The general grinned, slimy and devious. “I’m aware of the effectiveness of our methods. However—“

“GREAT, I’m so glad you’re just as cocky as you look.” Lance desperately hoped his eyes weren’t as wild as they felt. “I’ve gotta say, though, it makes me wonder. What do you do when I can’t talk, huh? You know that humans have those barriers, right? I can’t keep going like this forever, can’t happen, sorry.”

The general regarded him for a single, agonizing moment before replying.

“I am aware that you can not physically continue to speak.”

“Great, good!”

“You shouldn’t worry so, Blue Paladin. There is a simple solution.”

“God, yes, I’d do anything—“

“You simply need to tell us about Voltron’s battle strategies. Give us insights into your team. If your information satisfies us, we will give you the antidote to the poison and you will be able to avoid indescribable pain.”

Lance paused. That... couldn’t really happen. Shiro was counting on him, and Allura and Coran had literally spent hours drilling into him the proper procedure in a torture scenario, so he _knew_ what to do—

“What advice did their lessons usually entail? How did they expect you to respond to torture?”

Lance blinked. “Did I say that out loud? Shit.” It was getting harder and harder to filter his thoughts.

“Yes, that is a common side-effect.”

“Geez, it’s like you’re crawling around in my head.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“I am not crawling, Paladin. You are crumbling.”

And with that the general was out the door, and Lance was reminded once again just how fucked he was.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh so... I got carried away? This was supposed to be the recovery chapter, but it’s not. Plan on Shiro’s POV next :)

The world around him was spinning, now. Everything felt floaty and distant and he wondered if he was dreaming. That would be a relief, he hadn’t been able to sleep in so long...

 

OW nope, he hadn’t been sleeping. His throat _hurt_ , and the stupid Galra general wouldn’t leave him the heck alone.

“How does the castle obtain quintessence?”

Huh. That reminded him of that one time with the crystal. They’d run out of power... or something? He wasn’t sure. He’d been unconscious for most of it, probably. But Hunk and Keith had to go to that worm thing. Scary stuff.

He wondered if he’d meet any huge scary monsters. He’d mostly dealt with robeasts, or little things. A big monster would be cool.

“How did the Alteans survive this long?”

Alteans. Such a funny word. _Al-te-ans._ Coran and Allura were Alteans. Allura was basically a goddess, so it wasn’t even fair. So much competition when they go places. And she was 10,000 years old! He really didn’t stand a chance.

“Let’s move on. How did you become a paladin?”

Ah, he missed Blue.

 

Ow. Somehow the pain wasn’t even as bad anymore. Maybe he was dying.

“You are not dying, but you will suffer greatly.”

Great. Not dying. Wasn’t that supposed to be a good thing? He was all mixed up and confused.

“How did you find the lions?”

Keith’s stupid hair. A _mullet_ , of all things. Living out in the middle of the desert all by himself, with his stupid cryptoid theories and weird feelings that tell him to go places.

Maybe that wasn’t so weird, actually. The feeling he had was probably Blue calling to him.

But why hadn’t she called to Lance? He was her rightful paladin, right? Was it a mistake? Ugh he knew he wasn’t meant to be here.

 

Shit. He might have actually slept through a little bit of pain that time. He wasn’t sure if that was a bad sign.

“It is a bad sign, paladin. It’s very unfortunate that you didn’t cooperate sooner. At this point, I doubt you have the focus necessary to even understand what’s happening. We will leave you with your pain. With luck, you may survive the ordeal.”

Ha, he somehow doubted that. He wasn’t very lucky.

 

Somehow his throat didn’t hurt less, even after being given a break. Didn’t it get the memo? Heal up so Lance can shut up. We all want it.

Hm, who’s “we”? Maybe he was going crazy. Or maybe he was just echoing thoughts of his teammates. It was possible.

 

Mm he missed tacos. His Mamá was so good at making them just right. And with homemade tortillas.

 

The team probably wasn’t coming for him. They’d manage. Shiro was the leader, Keith was the amazing pilot, Pidge and Hunk were literally technological geniuses, Coran was basically a walking encyclopedia, and Allura was pretty.

Oh, and she powered the castle.

But where did that leave him? He wasn’t near as important, really.

“Unfortunate. If this is the case, we were unlucky to have captured such a weak member.”

Yeah. He was pretty weak.

And unlucky.

 

He couldn’t talk anymore.

 

He had to talk. It hurt _so bad_.

 

He couldn’t tell when the pain stopped and when it started. Did talking help? Or was he supposed to shut up? Was he even still talking?

 

Everything was blurring and he was talking to himself. The team would call him crazy.

 

He wasn’t crazy.

 

He wasn’t.

 

He wasn’t, he wasn’t, he wasn’t, he wasn’t.

 

He wanted to go home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol every time I think it's done, my writing gets away from me. So. There will probably be another chapter. Sorry not sorry, thanks for reading!

Shiro growled, slicing through the galra sentry easily. 

“Pidge, what’s your status?”

“ _ I’m at the control panel now. If Lance is on this ship, I’ll be able to pull up his location. _ ”

“Good work,” Shiro replied, brow furrowed. Lance had only been missing for a few days, but it was enough to leave a queasy feeling in his stomach. Lance was a member of his team, and he’d rather die than let one of his teammates go. It just wasn’t an option, at least not on his watch.

He ran down the long, violet corridor, pushing down the drifting memories that threatened to creep into his vision. He didn’t have time for that, not now. Lance needed him.

“ _ Shiro, I think I found him. The codes say that they admitted a new, high-security prisoner a few days ago. Take a left up ahead, and then a right at the next turn _ .”

“Copy that,” Shiro barked into his comms, turning around the left corner sharply. A few galra sentries lifted their guns, but Shiro had sliced their wiring before they had a chance to fire them. 

He turned right, and skidded to a halt. The hallway was surprisingly empty, but cell doors lined the walls on either side, going on into the distance indefinitely. Shiro felt a sharp pain in his head, and a similar scene flashed before his eyes. 

No.

He didn’t have time to deal with this. He forced himself to focus on where he was, and what was around him. He was the black paladin, and he had a job to do.

The flashback finally faded away, and he pressed onward, stumbling a little. 

“Pidge, which cell is it?”

“ _ Um… From where you are, I’d say it’s the third one on the left. Probably _ .”

“Got it,” he replied, already moving towards the door. His galra hand pressed against the access panel, and the door slid open with a  _ whoosh _ . 

“M’not… not,”

Shiro frowned. The cell was dark, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. They finally did, and he took in a sharp breath.

Lance was tied to the wall, his arms hanging and legs dangling. He was unconscious, twitching slightly in the bindings. He looked healthy enough, honestly, and Shiro was incredibly relieved for that. All limbs were accounted for, anyways.

“Lance,” he said, approaching the blue paladin hesitantly. Lance’s eyes opened a crack, and Shiro heard a small whimper.

“Shiro, ha, I know m’dreaming, but s’nice.” He paused, and Shiro heard him whimper again. “I don’t wanna talk anymore.”

Shiro frowned. Lance’s voice sounded absolutely ruined. There was barely any sound escaping his lips, and every scratchy syllable made him wince.

“It’s ok, Lance. I’m here now, and we’re going to get you out. You don’t have to talk anymore.”

Lance smiled weakly. “M’so tired, Shiro.”

“Yeah, I know buddy. It’s ok. I’ll get you out.” 

Shiro sliced through Lance’s bindings easily, catching Lance’s limp form as he fell from the wall. The blue paladin sighed, still smiling.

“It better’ve been the food…” He trailed off, his face scrunching up again. Shiro frowned. Something was wrong. Why was Lance still talking when it obviously hurt him so badly? And  _ what _ better have been the food?

He didn’t have time to think about it. They needed to get Lance to a healing pod, stat.

“Pidge, what’s your status? Is Green nearby?”

“ _ Yeah, we’re just outside your location. Did you find Lance _ ?”

He looked down at the limp figure in his arms. “Yeah, I found him. He needs a healing pod.”

“ _ Got it, _ ” Pidge replied. “ _ I’ll blast out an exit for you _ .”

Shiro shifted Lance in his arms. The blue paladin was much lighter than he probably should have been, but Shiro doubted that that was from his three days in prison. Lance had always been skin and bones.

“Shiro,” Lance mumbled. Shiro looked down at him in surprise. “I gotta… I gotta keep talking. It hurts.” 

Shiro frowned. “I know it hurts, bud. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

Lance shook his head violently, startling Shiro almost enough to drop him. “No, no, I gotta… I can’t stop.  _ Shiro _ . It _ hurts _ .”

Well. Now Shiro was even more confused than he had been. Before he had a chance to question Lance further, a rocking explosion shook the ship. 

“ _ Alright, Green’s head should be just outside the cell you’re in. Hurry up, though, we shouldn’t stay here with the cockpit open like this _ .”

“Copy that,” Shiro replied, hefting Lance higher into his arms. He ran out of the room, hesitating a moment until he saw Green’s head shoved through the thick metal on his right. He immediately dashed into the opening, gripping Lance’s mumbling figure tightly. 

“Alright Pidge, we’re in. Take us out of here.”

“ _ Yessir _ ,” she replied, and Green’s huge head slid out of the gaping hole with a groan of metal on metal. 

Shiro settled into the space behind the pilot’s chair, returning his attention to the blue paladin.

“Lance. Can you hear me?”

He got nothing but a moan in response.

“What happened? Is he hurt?” Pidge sounded worried, and Green veered a little as she turned to take in Lance’s condition.

“He’ll be ok,” Shiro replied, although he honestly had no idea what was even happening. Lance said that he couldn’t stop talking. What was that supposed to mean? Had the Galra pulled some kind of psychological trick? He would have thought that that kind of thing took months, or years, but he couldn’t think of anything else. Lance really was convinced that he was supposed to talk. 

“Shiro, m’so tired.” Shiro turned his attention back to Lance.

“Yeah? Why don’t you go to sleep? You’re safe now.”

Lance shook his head with a grimace. “No, it  _ hurts _ .” 

Shiro frowned. “What hurts, Lance? Where does it hurt?” 

The blue paladin raised a shaky hand, dropping it onto his chest. “Hurts.”

Shiro experienced a brief moment of panic. Had Lance been injured worse than he realized? Did he have some kind of deadly wound under his armor?

Shiro hastily stripped the armor away, panicking. Lance groaned a couple times, face screwing up in pain. Once the armor was gone, however, he took a moment to stare in confusion. There was nothing. His chest was totally fine, not even a scratch on it. 

“Where did you say it hurt, Lance?” he asked slowly. The boy touched his chest again, whimpering.

Shiro sighed sharply. He had no idea what to do with this. One of his cadets was in pain, and he couldn’t even find an injury to treat. How was he supposed to heal an invisible wound?

“Shiro… I think it was the food,” Lance slurred. Shiro thought about that for a moment. It was possible that this was poison, although the chest was a strange place to be affected by it. Maybe he could chalk that up to alien poison.

“Ok. We’re going to get you to a healing pod, so if it’s poison the pod will draw it out.”

Lance nodded, smiling shakily. How was he still smiling? He was obviously half-delirious and in a great deal of pain, but he smiled. Shiro hadn’t ever admired his strength more.

The Green lion pulled into the castle’s hangar, and Pidge and Shiro worked together to get Lance’s limp form into a healing pod. 

Shiro studied his floating body, lips pressed into a thin line. The healing pod diagnosed him with nothing worse than a sore throat, and some extreme exhaustion. Both of those things were easy enough to fix, and the pod would have him out in no longer than an hour. Shiro, however, was not totally convinced. Lance said his chest hurt, but there was no evidence of any wounds there at all. Shiro couldn’t help but feel like he was missing something. Something big. But he had no idea what it was, or how he could help. 

What was he missing?


End file.
